


bang, bang

by 1lostone



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: A surprising amount of fluff for all of these tags., Big Bang Challenge, Bottom Rick, Bottom Rick Grimes, Character Study, Daryl Dixon does NOT like it when someone fucks around in Rick’s sandbox, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Forced discussion of sexuality in presence of minor, Fuck Or Die, Graphic Mindfuckery, Graphic Sex, Graphic Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Minor discussions of pregnancy and breastfeeding, Mutual Pining, Negan is a little more Graphic Novel Negan than JDM Negan, Negan is shockingly sort of a dick, Neganlogues abound; dude likes the sound of his own voice (and he is fun to write.), PTSD, Pining, Possessiveness, Protective Carl, Protective Daryl, Protective Maggie, Protective Rick, Shockingly there is angst, Slight Canon Divergence, TWDBigBang2016 TWD Big Bang 2016, Unsafe Sex, Voyeurism, Voyeurism audio and visual, Written before S7 started so some things aren’t quite Kosher, alternating pov, description of panic attacks, forced sexual situations, generally cliched writing, i blame jlm for everything, mentions of graphic novel events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 02:48:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9215393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1lostone/pseuds/1lostone
Summary: Rick told himself that he'd never underestimate Negan again. Not after what happened last time.  Daryl knew that he’d do anything for this unexpected family; he would protect them whenever he was needed.And Negan?Negan knew that all of them were gonna fuckin’pay.





	1. Maggie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lotr58](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotr58/gifts).



> Dub-con (although both are pining for the other, the circumstances are most definitely dubious in nature.) Fuck or Die. This was started right before 7.1 and left languishing in my google docs for awhile, so ignore the fact that it doesn’t fit canon. Think of it as an in-canon AU if you want.

**~1~**

**Maggie**

 

Maggie knew that things were fucked, almost before Negan’s crew had sprung the trap. It had been stupid and childish to think that after one show of force in the woods that Negan would ever leave them alone. All she had to do was remember Daryl’s broken body delivered practically on their doorstep with the note ‘cya soon xoxo’ to know that.

On the trip that brought them here, months later, Daryl had been adamant that Maggie stay home, but she’d been bored.

Maggie had never been one to be tied down, and if any of her family thought her havin’ a baby would change any of that, they were _sorely_ mistaken.  

Carl must have felt much the same- wanting a chance to be out in the air instead of cooped up on forever babysitting duties, because he’d left Judith with Carol, and Maggie had left little Steven with Morgan (none of them were entirely sure what was going on there between the two of them, but it was a sure enough bet that if anything came at either one of those children, they would have to raze the entire community first, and god help whoever met either Carol or Morgan with malice in their hearts and a desire to harm the kids) and they’d both decided to drive the short distance to Hilltop to check on the situation there.  Oh sure. She’d known that Daryl and Rick had followed her and Carl, but the illusion of freedom had been nice.

The day had been beautiful. The truck windows were open and Carl had been shaky but nervous when she’d let him drive, figuring that today was as good of a day as any for him to practice.  Carl didn’t really smile much anymore, not since Enid had taken off. She’d stayed to see Steven born, and promised to come back, but Maggie didn’t blame her for needing to go. The girl was both clever and resourceful, and would probably be fine. Maggie knew that she couldn’t turn her into Beth if the girl wasn’t interested. She was sure missed, though.

By Carl, mostly. Maggie had the feeling that Carl and Enid had been a lot more involved than just making googly eyes at each other, and her leaving had left their boy with his first heartbreak.  Actually, the fact that Daryl had threatened to go and track her and drag her ass back the first time he’d seen Carl’s face after Enid had left had been both hilarious and terrifying. Especially after he was shot, they’d all tried to protect Carl in some way, and this had been Maggie’s- a road trip to HIlltop to check on the farm’s yield.

All those months ago, Carl had come back from the woods with terrible knowledge that no one, especially not a kid- although, he was hardly a kid anymore- should ever have to see. Maggie remembered him whispering to his dad to go ahead... and knew that he had done it for _them_ . Like Rick, he’d tried to be brave. Like all of them, they’d closed ranks and continued on, surviving while they could before Negan and his men came back to Alexandria. Whatever hope any of them had of keeping him protected from the more harsh realities of life had drained away like filthy water down a clogged drain the first time Negan had seen Carl cry. In the time since, it was painfully obvious that Negan had a fascination with Carl that _none_ of them much cared for.

Still, the day had been beautiful, and the two of them had belted out how they were just a small town girl living in a lonely world without the pressing weight of reality on their shoulders... until they’d been captured.

It had happened so quickly that Maggie knew it had to have been planned. Negan and his men had been deceptively quiet since... _Since_...

Maggie swallowed hard, and tried like she always did not to think too much about how Glenn had died. How he had fought to stay with her, begged and pleaded, and....

_Maggie. I will find you..._

Maggie lurched to her feet, stomach feeling shaky and leaving her with a faint urge to vomit. She took stock of herself, wincing when she felt the heaviness of her breasts and frowning in confusion when she realized that she wasn’t even tied up.  She’d been breastfeeding in the six months that Steven had come squalling and screaming into this world, fighting hard for life like both of his parents had done.

The birth hadn’t been easy for any of them. Maggie knew that she’d called for Glenn, that she’d begged Rick to find him and had been able to tell by the faint sheen of tears in Rick’s eyes that she’d hurt him when she’d screamed profanities and blame that _Glenn should be the one there and holding her hand- Or her dad. Or her sister. Sure as hell not Rick Grimes._ She wouldn’t even let Daryl in the room with her, but knew that he had paced outside, like a nervous dad. Maggie wasn’t proud of what she’d done, and she’d tried to apologize later on when Steven had passed out on her chest, but Rick wouldn’t let her.

Hell, Daryl couldn’t even _look_ at her. Still- even after all this time.

Maggie knew she’d broken something- and she wasn’t quite sure how to fix it.

Now though, her painful, full breasts gave her a sense of timing. She’d fed Steven before she’d left, anticipating that she’d only be gone for a few hours at most.  By the fullness and pain of pressure she felt when she stood up, Maggie figured she’d been gone about four hours by now.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath.

The room she was in was dark, with just a faint dripping noise giving her a sense of place. A basement? Maggie’s fingers brushed against something cold and metal. A folding chair? A cabinet?  She winced again as the dripping sound flipped whatever mental switch in her head that associated dripping with feeding, and her painfully full breasts started to leak.  She frowned, not wanting to stumble around in the dark. At least if she were crawling, she’d have a lower center of gravity if something happened.

Maggie hit her nose against something solid, and swore again, rubbing hard at the appendage. She felt a bit like a mime as she put up her hands, feeling the crumbly surface against the palms. It felt like a dirt wall or something like it.

“Mmn?”

Maggie gasped and whirled, trying to see in the darkness. She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again, letting them adjust to the inky blackness.  Maggie heard the _whisp_ of something soft brushing against a harder surface, then Carl’s groggy, “Maggie?”

“I’m here, Carl,” Maggie spoke a little louder than  she’d meant to- and tried to shake off the lethargy she felt. Had they knocked her out? Had they given her something...? _Oh Jesus, would it hurt the baby?_ Maggie pressed her hand to her heart, and tried to catch her breath, pushing the panic away.

“Uh? I. Um. What happened? _Shit._ I’m tied up. Can you... can you get my hands?” Carl’s voice cracked with nerves, and Maggie forced herself to be calm. This was bad, but they were together, at least.  Rick and Daryl would be here soon, and they’d all get out of this just fine.

“Yeah. Let me get over there.” Maggie slowly inched her way towards Carl’s voice. “I’ll try. Turn around, okay. This is gonna be interesting in the dark.”

Carl snorted a little, and Maggie marveled at how placid the teenager sounded, seemingly unworried at their predicament. Her shins hit something soft, and it caused her to trip, pinwheeling her arms to catch her balance. She couldn’t, and fell, surprised that the surface was springy.

A mattress.

What the hell?

Her hands accidentally brushed against Carl’s back, before Maggie was able to orient herself and start picking at Carl’s bindings.

“Aw damn. They used duct tape. Shit. This might take awhile.”

“Crap.”

“Yeah.” She huffed out a breath, patting herself down for the tiny penknife she kept on her. Unsurprisingly it had been removed, and Maggie tried not to let her skin crawl at the idea of some nameless, faceless entity touching her, patting her down for weapons.  

Instinctively, she felt the back of his head, carding her fingers through his long hair. Carl had started to wear it in a ponytail, but it had obviously come undone. There was nothing worrisome- no bumps, and no blood anyway. Nothing obvious.  Carl flinched away from her though, causing Maggie to frown.

“Carl...” Maggie knew her voice was both tentative and confused.

He sighed. “Yeah.  The took off my eye patch. That’s gone for whatever reason. I hope I didn’t lose the darn thing, or Carol’s gonna kill me.”

Maggie opened her mouth to reply, but before she could there was a long, drawn out, high pitched screeching sound that reminded her of fingernails on a chalkboard. She winced, then heard the vibrating _thud_ of something solid hitting the surface that rattled above her.  

“It’s time that y’all woke the fuck _up_!”

Everything inside of Maggie froze at once. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream. Couldn’t move to defend herself. She knew that voice. She’d heard it in her nightmares, both waking and asleep since her husband had been murdered. She knew its taunting, condescending timbre, and knew she’d never, ever forget it.

There was a bang, and a screech of hinges, and both her and Carl turned away, hiding from the sudden bright light. Maggie heard the snick of a propane lantern.  It gave out a feeble yellow light, as though it was straining against all the darkness surrounding it. She heard the sharp thud of boots on stairs. Maggie’s saw _him_ , there. Right on the stairs in front of her.

 

Negan.


	2. Rick

 

**~2~**

**Rick**

 

Rick knew that things were fucked, almost before the light came on.

It hadn’t taken long to realize that he was cuffed to someone, and a grunt and a muttered curse told him who, even in the pitch black darkness. Rick didn’t much think there was any sort of way he _wouldn’t_ recognize Daryl Dixon, but he supposed it was nice to have the affirmation.

Quickly Rick froze, trying to assess if they were alone. He could hear Daryl’s breathing, but no growling or grunting of the dead.

 _Hunh_ . Not what he expected, but Rick would take it. He lay still for a moment, trying to get his bearings. He moved his arm and heard the _clink_ of what was obviously a chain. Sure enough; he was chained to something solid enough that he couldn’t move forward. It dawned on him that he was hearing someone whispering near him, and Rick started to feel an even more sinking feeling in his gut.

Earlier, they had just started to relax, to enjoy the spring day when they’d been attacked. Stupid, stupid, fucking _stupid_. He’d seen the tire on Maggie’s truck go- saw Carl-, who had very little experience driving- overcompensate by jerking the wheel, and the truck had fishtailed before crashing into another vehicle. Daryl had skidded their sedan to a stop, but Negan’s snipers had been waiting for all of them, hidden and ready for business.  Much like the clearing in the woods, they’d been waiting and ready.

One had held a gun on Carl and Maggie, while two of Negan’s men ran up to hold him and Daryl in place. With a literal gun to his boy’s head, Rick wasn’t about to do anything. He’d learned his lesson about mouthing off to Negan.

For that matter- so had Daryl.

Their payments had been regular, like clockwork.  Rick had tried to think of a good reason for this to be happening, but came up blank.  They had done everything that they had been forced to do.

_Everything._

So what the fuck was going on?  

Rick realized that Maggie had spoken, and Carl had answered just before another voice sent all thoughts of his family out of his mind.

“It’s time that y’all woke the fuck _up_!”

The light from the  door above them swinging open was so bright  that Rick was blinded; wincing and hiding his face as much as he could.  It took a second for him to focus, and when he did it was with a sinking heart.  More than anything, he didn’t want this to be true. He wanted to be dreaming, or for this to be some elaborate practical joke.

Elaborate, yes. Practical joke, no. But reality was harsh, and Rick didn’t get to hide from that shit anymore.  Not after what he’d done. Not after _his_ cockiness and certainty had fucked them all over. No one in his family had come right out and said it- but all of ‘em know it to be true.

Guilt was a terrible thing and it ate at him like a cancer.

Rick squinted and tried to focus, blinking the swimmy white dots out of his vision. Negan stood there. Even with the too-bright corona around the man from the suddenness of the whiteness of the bright daylight, Rick could identify Negan with heart-stopping clarity. He did not think he would ever forget what this sonofabitch tried to do to his boy.

A second had him identifying the short-cropped hair and the bomber jacket; the way Negan tapped Lucille threateningly against the wood of the stairs gave Rick a sense of foreboding.

Daryl groaned next to him. Distracted, Negan looked over, making eye contact. Rick tensed nervously when the bat that had caused so much heartache thudded sharply again against the surface, then his heart jumped into his throat when Negan stepped aside and gestured mockingly, showing Rick what he hadn’t even noticed with the adrenaline that had shot through his system.

Rick's gaze went immediately to Carl- zeroing in on his son like one of Daryl’s arrows to its target. Rick jumped to his feet, ignoring the fact that he was still cuffed to Daryl and stood with his other arm chain still bolted to the wall, straining his shoulder with the lack of movement.

“Shit, What the f---” Daryl trailed off, shutting his mouth with a snap as he stared at the tableau in front of them. Rick had never pushed Daryl to tell him what had happened during those two months that he was Negan’s prisoner, but it was easy to see that Darryl was terrified out of his damn mind as he stared at the man who had tortured him standing a few feet away.

Rick could see Carl kneeling on a mattress on the other side of the room. Carl had a large bruise over his shoulder visible through the huge rip in his t-shirt. Rick could see a glimpse of skin and a hell of a lot of too-prominent ribs. The skin on his shoulder was still shiny, indicating that whatever had happened to it had been recent.  His hat and his eyepatch were missing, and Rick didn’t miss the way he had turned his body away from the light, curled up on himself slightly enough that it kept his blind side away from danger. - Abraham had shown Carl that- how to maximize what vision he had. Carl’s hands were behind his back, obviously secured but with something Rick couldn’t see.

Maggie knelt next to him. In the bright light, she appeared wan, the color of her face and hair leached out of her. Her lower lip wobbled and the look on her face hid nothing of the terror she felt at being in Negan’s presence again. One fist was clenched at her side, and the other shook visibly from where it rested on Carl’s shoulder.   
  
The room they were in might have been some kind of cellar before all this. The room had several empty shelves on the opposite side from where he and  Daryl were chained to the wall. He could smell the scent of something rotten and something sweet, something that hung in the room like a cloud.  Rick glanced down behind him and reassessed: they were chained to a large, eyelet bolt in the floor. The sight of the mattress amped up his nervousness to a gut-churning fear. He vividly remembered the little mindfuck games Negan and his people had played when they'd been herded into the clearing in the woods where.... where...   
  
Rick stared at Negan, willing the other man to speak. 

“Come on, now. Time to make the _doooooonuts_!” He hopped gleefully down the last two steps and tapped Lucile on the floor twice.

Rick felt every muscle in Daryl's body freeze at once.

Rage rocked through him as Rick realized that he was not meant to speak first, if at all. That had been the message of the little meeting in the woods after all; Negan had made it a point to establish dominance and Rick was just his bitch.

It was difficult for Rick _not_ to talk, especially now with Maggie and Carl and Daryl locked into this mess with him.

Rick went back over their last meeting with Negan’s men. They hadn't been short with their “half”; they figured that from what the people on Hilltop had said that the Saviors scouted extensively. They looked and they spied on all the scavenging missions that went out of Alexandria's walls. They _always_ knew exactly how much was their due. Hiding something would be fucking stupid.

Rick hadn’t wanted to remain Alexandria’s leader even though no one would accept him stepping down, but he’d been adamant about answering the people who had wanted to fuck Negan over honestly. He hadn’t been able to help it, not after Daryl was found curled up and naked in the trunk of a car driven politely up to the gates. Negan’s man had even honked the horn until someone had come off watch tower. Aaron had been on watch, and he’d whistled the ‘alarm’ whistle when the trunk had popped open, calm as anything. Daryl had been underfed, exhausted, bruised and bleeding, unable to close his eyes or sleep for days, except with tiny little catnaps. He’d not spoken to any of them for an entire week after he’d been delivered back to them. Negan’s people had driven off with a jaunty wave and a reminder not to be short on the next pickup. They’d even returned Daryl’s crossbow, almost like an extra fuck you. They’d broken all the arrows just because they could. After that Rick hadn’t let anyone horde food, or weapons, or ammo. He kept everything visible, and made Olivia rotate out with Sasha so that Rick could keep one of his own people in the know, making sure that their take to Negan was honestly half of what they brought in.

Seeing Daryl like that had been... been...

Rick didn’t much like to think of what he’d felt when Daryl had been returned to them, or how he’d felt ten feet tall when Daryl had _finally_ started to heal from his experience. It had been Rick that he’d sought out, and Rick had been so fucking grateful that Daryl had been alive, and whole that he hadn’t tried to examine how his feelings for the other man had... shifted.

Rick was jarred brutally back to the present when Negan turned and tapped Lucille against the edge of the mattress closest to Maggie. Daryl started to breathe a little more heavily, hyperventilating a little. Rick wanted to comfort him, but didn’t know if he should. He was terrified to show any sort of emotion that Negan would perceive as weakness.

“Betcha all are wonderin’ what the fuck got you these fine accommodations?” Negan looked to Rick, flicked his gaze towards Daryl, then stared at Maggie and Carl, his smirk twisting.  “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” His smirk turned affable. On anyone else it would be a smile that made you want to like its owner.

He’d smiled just like that before he killed Glenn.

Lucille thudded sharply against the wood floor, and all four of them jumped, visibly shaken.

“You! Kid! Answer the fucking question.”

Carl’s one eye narrowed in a glare. His chin jutted up with defiance and Rick was fiercely proud of his boy for the two seconds that Carl held Negan’s gaze. Negan didn’t flinch away from the mess that was his face, the part of the cheek that was missing after Ron shot him, nor the dead-looking flap of skin that used to be his eyelid. Negan cocked his head for a minute and stared, obviously thinking.

Carl took his time in answering. “Yes. We are wondering why you captured us.” His voice was steady and calm; a helluva lot calmer than Rick felt.

Negan frowned thoughtfully. “You know what? You’re a brave goddamn tyke, ain’t ya? Kneelin’ there a calm as you please while I hold all of you captured. Now, I know a lot of kids. Well, _knew_.” He made a gesture with his other hand that somehow encompassed the whole world that was. Carl just stared at him.

“You know, I called you a future serial killer last time we... met. Almost had your pa cut off your damn hand.” Negan blew out a heavy breath, shaking his head. “Boy, would that make jerking off a trial. You know... with your--” he lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “ _\--eye_.” Negan winked with an exaggerated motion of his right eye, cruelly mocking Carl’s loss. Rick’s gut felt sick, as it always did when he thought of the circumstances that had lead to Carl getting shot in the first place.

Carl stared, steady.

“Whew, _damn_ , kid. I like you. Admire even. Shame that you had to go out with the broad.” He jerked his gaze to Maggie and Negan’s smile changed again.

Rick swallowed hard, helpless from anger and rage, disgusted that he was too afraid to act.

“I remember you. Hunh. Missus. -” Negan made a _thwok_ sound with his mouth and Maggie flinched, a tear running down her cheek, obviously terrified. When she got her mad up, she was something to behold. But Maggie hadn’t found her mad yet. She looked somehow fragile in her terror, like any one thing might be the thing that broke her.

“Hey! You must like the sound of your own voice a lot. Like in the comics I read. Always some stupid three-panel monologue.” Carl sucked his teeth and shook his head. It was pretty damn obvious to Rick that he was trying to keep Negan’s attention on him, instead of on Maggie.

Negan’s head turned slowly towards Carl,  his face frozen a little on the smarmy grin.

Rick panicked.

“What the fuck do you _want_?” The words burst out of Rick’s throat, almost without him being able to stop them. Belatedly, Rick became aware that Daryl had grabbed his bicep in warning, his grip tightening when Rick’s voice broke on the word ‘want’.

Negan turned to him, flicked his gaze over to Daryl, and Rick shifted slightly, as though putting his body between Negan and Daryl would somehow protect him. There wasn’t much give on the chain keeping them both immobile, but he figured his body language was plain enough, by the way Negan’s grin widened.

“Why, Rick. I want your boy.”

Rick’s eyes widened, and for a second he thought he was going to puke. He wasn’t sure what expression was on his face, but Daryl was forgotten as Rick jumped forward, to strangle the sick fuck with his bare hands, only to be yanked back by the lack of slack in the chain and the heaviness of Daryl’s body.

Negan rolled his eyes. “Oh for fuck’s sake. No. I don’t want him like _that_. I got all the pussy I want back home, never worry your little head. Calm your shit, daddy-o. Huh.” Negan paused, the wheels obviously turning in his head. “Someone threaten him like that before?” Negan, strangely enough, narrowed his eyes, as though pissed on Carl's behalf that Carl had been threatened.

“Yeah.” Rick made himself talk, although his voice was a strangled ruin.

“They still with us? I mean, you were gonna fuckin’ cut off your own boy’s hand, man. Hard for me to take you seriously after that, ya know?” Lucille tapped against the floor again, but Rick hardly noticed.

“No. He tore out one guy’s throat. With his _teeth_. Then gutted the other guy from his dick to his throat.” Carl’s voice sounded fierce with pride. “ _My_ dad did that. So whatever it is you think I want that’s gonna make me leave--”

“No, no no. You got it all wrong. I’m not going to make you come with me like some damn heroine in some shitty novel. I’m gonna make you _want_ to leave this sorry sack of shit and come on over to my people. I hate to repeat myself, but I like you. You don’t cry. There’s strength in you. Musta been from your mama’s side though, ‘cuz damn.” Negan grinned. “You didn’t wimp out like _some_ people I could name,” Negan’s voice took on a joking lilt again as though they were all just shootin’ the shit around the water cooler. “You were willing to take the cut to save all your people, while your dad? Your dad there just blew snot bubbles.” Negan rolled his eyes. “Like to drive me fuckin’ _nuts_.”

Negan jerked his chin in Daryl’s direction. “And that one? Don’t even get me started.” He looked back to Carl. “Fuckin _weak_.” He flipped Lucille from one end to the other, catching the grip right under the wound barbed wire. Negan flipped it again, turned and swung into the air in front of Maggie with a _woosh_ of the bat in the air.

Maggie yelled out a short scream and fell back, losing her balance and falling on her ass on the mattress.

“ _No_!” Rick yelled, afraid, desperate to stop whatever was happening next. He knew Negan was like a rabid dog. They all did.  He’d keep coming back for more and more, uncaring of the damage he caused.  Dimly, he became aware of Daryl’s hand raising when his did, connected to his, trapped and helpless. “Leave them _alone_!”

Carl turned to Maggie and nudged her with his shoulder, keeping his bad side turned away so as not to frighten her further. “Hey. Hey. Maggie, look at me, okay?” Carl’s voice was high with panic. It wobbled a little between the high-pitched voice of a boy and the lower tones of the man he hadn’t quite become. God. He was only _fifteen_. 

He sounded scared. His _boy_ sounded scared, and there was nothing that Rick could fucking _do_.

“Ohh. Oh-ho-ho, damn.” Negan emphasized the word, drawing it out. _Daaa-yummn_. Negan ducked a little, staring at Carl and Maggie as though something had just occurred to him. He snorted a laugh. “Damn, son. Moving in on that like a fuckin’ _boss!_ ”

Carl turned away from Maggie as though he’d been burned. He flushed. It was obvious with his pale skin.  They all knew about Carl’s several-years long, completely hopeless crush on Maggie. Maggie ignored it, but was never cruel or teased him. Rick and Michonne, on the very few occasions that someone in the ASZ felt the need to snicker or stare significantly, or even _look_ like they were going to say something to Carl, made it very clear that that would be a bad idea.

Carl probably thought that his crush had gone unnoticed. It had started way back since the prison days, and had faded a little when Enid was around, but had spring to its former glory as soon as Maggie had returned from the Hilltop, grieving, _destroyed,_ but staying strong for everyone else.

“Well, that’s gonna make this next bit a helluva lot more interesting.” Negan shook his head, clucking his tongue. Turning, he faced Rick and Daryl, he whistled a jaunty sounding tune under his breath, and Daryl flinched.

“Daryl! Lookitcha, man.” Negan shook his head sadly, staring at the way that Daryl flinched again, almost violently at first before obviously forcing himself to stare at man still standing in the circle of light from the door at the top of the stairs.  Negan clicked his tongue three times, and jerked his head to the right.

Daryl looked, following where Negan indicated, almost as though he couldn’t help himself. The look on his face was carefully blank, although he swallowed hard enough that Rick heard his throat click. Whatever Daryl was seeing that scared him so much  wasn’t immediately clear to Rick. He could see the shelves to the back of the room,  an old red gas can on top. There were some old blankets and what looked like a half-empty galon of water, a few rubbermaid storage bins, and that was all.

Negan inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering. Rick couldn’t help but do the same thing. As soon as he did he realized what it was that he had been smelling all this time.

Fear. It was the rank mixture of old blood and stale death, sweat and god knew what. If trapped, helpless despair had a scent, it would smell like that.

”So let me real clear. You wondered why you are all here, kid?”

Carl was glaring at him so hard that Rick wasn’t entirely sure his son actually heard Negan’s question.

“Well not to put too fine a point upon it, but your dad’s a weak, pathetic excuse for a human being. He coulda saved Daryl and didn’t. He _coulda_ shown some spine during either of our visits, and didn’t. Hell.” Negan scoffed. “He’s not a very good dad, is he?” Negan stage-whispered the last and Rick struggled to keep his face blank. “But you know what he is? _Huh_ ?” Negan waited a beat, like a teacher expecting an answer to a question. When all four of them remained silent, his eyes started to lose that amused, what-the-fuck-ever glint to them and turned more cold and empty than Rick had ever seen. “He’s a fucking _LIAR!”_

Lucille swung through the air and hit the chain that kept Rick confined with an agonizing reverberation that drove Rick to his knees.  Maggie moaned, low in her throat. She wasn’t paying attention as Carl tried desperately to help her, and couldn’t seem to take her eyes off Lucille. Maggie’s clear eyes seemed dull, her gaze far away. Whatever she was seeing obviously wasn’t in this room with them.

Negan turned ad gestured to Maggie, glaring at Rick now. “Looks to me like sugar-britches over there is fit as a motherfuckin’ _fiddle_ . Unless she’s one fine-ass ghost, it seems to me that you _lied_ to me, Rick.”

Rick closed his eyes, feeling the sick stench of guilt flood him.  He _had_ lied. He hadn’t wanted to get Gabriel in trouble with the bit from the graves, but he’d also been desperate to keep Negan from even _thinking_ of Maggie. His shoulders slumped and he found that he couldn’t look at his son- too cowardly to see what expression of disgust was on Carl’s face. Oh, that he’d seen before. More than simple teenage angst, the disgust and anger Carl felt for his father had been almost palpable.

Rick’s shoulder throbbed. When Negan had hit the chain, it had caused Rick to lose his balance, falling onto the wooden floor with a sharp pain that told him he’d ripped the knees out of his jeans pretty badly. Daryl barely kept his balance beside him, having to lean into a suddenly lower center of gravity.

“And this one?” Negan tapped Lucille on the glass in front of Daryl. “He’s not any better. Dwight told me what happened to Patty, man. That was very. Uncool. Stealing from me, not once? Not twice? But _three_ times? Little firebug, aintcha?  Sooo, you can see why I’m a little less than thrilled with these two.” Negan turned to stare at Carl and Maggie.  “It truly pains me to have you two involved in this. But you gotta take some responsibility for the asshole company you keep. That’s just a fact.”

Negan paused, staring at the shelves with a thoughtful look on his face.

“So. I guess the short version is... y’all are _fucked_.”   



	3. Carl

**~3~**

**Carl**

 

Carl knew that things were fucked as soon as he saw the desperate, more-insane-than-not look on his dad’s face.

He had a pretty good view of his dad and his dad’s best friend from where he knelt on the mattress, still trying to comfort Maggie. It wasn't very easy to do with his hands tied around his back, and Carl wasn’t exactly sure why they felt the need to take off his eye patch, except to creep him out. He knew that Negan was all about power. Everything that he’d done so far was to make them feel... less.

“So. I guess the short version is... y’all are _fucked_.”      

Carl rolled his eye. Once you got past what he’d done with that bat, Negan was what his dad would call ‘50 pounds of bullshit in a ten-pound bag’.  Grand schemes, dramatic gestures- it didn’t matter what they did, Negan had to one-up them. He reminded Carl of the bullies he knew back when he was in school.

Maggie made a sound next to him, and Carl turned away from Negan to try to comfort her. The smell of the room was making him feel a little sick. The fear on his dad’s face and the too-careful look on Daryl’s made him want to look behind him and see what they were looking at, but he equally didn’t want to give Negan the satisfaction.

Maggie was forcing herself to breathe more slowly, driving her fingernails into her palms and using that pain to slowly jar herself out of her fear. Carl wanted to do something for her, pat her back, or _something_ , but he didn’t know what that something would be.

Unseen by the anyone else, Carl bit his lip. He didn’t like to think about what had happened to him with those people in the woods. He didn’t much like the thought of what that gross, fat man had done to him, and tried not to think about it too much. Michonne had made a point to check in on him a few times after it had happened, but with Terminus and everything else, she’d gotten distracted, and Carl had just... been okay with that.  With not thinking about anything, especially.

Negan’s offer made him feel the same way. Oily, or greasy; under his skin in a way that felt disgusting and wrong. What had Negan meant, exactly?

_I want your boy._

He’d said it- but not like that. Not with... sex stuff. Not like that other man had... had wanted him.

Carl didn’t know all that much about sex.  He knew that it happened, and he’d suffered through the horribly humiliating talk in 5th grade, where Coach Jones had shown them a movie that had been so old that when his mom had signed the permission slip, she’d snorted and said that it was the same one she’d been shown twenty years ago. Carl didn’t really care if the someone doing it was doing it with two guys, or two girls, or a guy and a girl. It was _all_ embarrassing, and not something he was focused on yet, although everyone kept telling him that 'his time would come.' 

Negan had laughed at him about Maggie, and Carl had known he was blushing. He felt bad enough knowing that he’d been called out on his stupid little crush.

It wasn’t like... like Rosita and Abraham. Those two hadn’t much cared who heard them, and Carl and his mismatched little family had been practically on top of each other for long enough that Carl just usually stuck a pillow over his head and prayed for death when one or both of them moaned like they were dying. They had both seemed to find it kind of hilarious that Carl could never quite look them directly in the eyes after one of their... er. Events.

Maggie was... she was so smart, and beautiful, and fierce. She’d been there with him with his mom, and Carl had tried to be there for her after Beth, since he wasn’t able to help her after her dad had died. Maggie and Glenn had each other of course, and Carl hadn’t wanted to be with her _that_ way- but he. He just couldn’t help it. Maggie was amazing, and he loved her. He would do anything to keep her safe.

It definitely wasn’t like Enid. Enid had made him feel... weird. Awkward and horrible and perfect and _ugh_.

Girls were fucking _complicated_.

But now, there were other things to worry about. Scarier things. Carl couldn’t do much except press his leg against Maggie’s hip, but she was slowly calming down. He didn’t have any illusions that it was him making her calm down. Carl knew that it was much more likely that she really was just that strong.  Carl bent over a little to see her face and saw what Maggie was staring at.

Curled up with her back to the stairs, Negan couldn’t see the look on her face. Her body looked like she was broken, curled up as it was, but the expression on her face was pure intensity. Maggie moved her eyes, and Carl followed her gaze.

The outline of a door of some sort was clearly visible from this angle. It was more like a trap door since it was in the floor, and it was obvious that they’d tried to cover it up with a blanket, but the latch and handle were clearly visible, peeking out of from under the ratty cloth.

Maggie sobbed, and Carl’s gaze flew to where she was staring up at him. It was such a quick moment of acknowledgement- her clear, green gaze flicked to the partially-hidden door, then back towards Negan, then Maggie closed her eyes and started crying again, curling up as though hysterical.

Carl blinked, a little shocked.

Maggie was... faking?

Negan laughed at something Carl had obviously missed, delighted at his own wit. His dad and Daryl both stared at him in horrified shock. But it was the way that Maggie stiffened besides him that caused Carl’s adrenaline to spike.

“W-what?” Carl heard himself stutter.

“Think of it as a favor!” Negan clucked his tongue, grinning. “You get what, if my spidey-senses don’t deceive me, is your first piece of ass. This is what we call a red-letter day, huh, kid?”

Carl stared at Negan, utterly shocked for the first time since he’d had the gun pulled on him earlier that day.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Daryl growled, the solid _clink_ of his fist in the cuffs moving the links of chain punctuating his fury. “They ain’t gonna do that. And you for damn sure ain’t gonna make them.”

“Oh? Aren’t I?”

Carl couldn’t see what expression was on Negan’s face when he turned around to fully face Daryl, but he could clearly see the expression on his _dad’s_ face, and knew that shit was about to go down. He nudged Maggie who, unseen by Negan, moved closer to the trap door, trying to ignore the furious blush he knew had to be on his cheeks.

Carl risked a look down at Maggie, and tried to move a little to block Negan’s view of her, should he turn around.  He was pretty focused, on Daryl and his dad, but Negan was nothing if not unpredictable. He felt useless, and awkward, and stupid for wishing that there was some way to get them out of this.

“I. Will fucking. _Kill_ you.”

Carl jerked his head, staring at his dad in shock. He had not heard that low growl in quite awhile. He wouldn’t have put it quite how Negan had done, but the truth was that the way his dad had gone with what Negan wanted had... shook him. Shook up his confidence. Carl loved his dad. He _still_ loved his dad, even though he didn’t understand everything that his dad did. But Negan had been right. Carl _had_ lost a little respect for his dad with all of this.

But those words, in that tone of voice made his skin crawl.

“Fucking kill me? Kill _me?_ ” Negan swung the bat again, the wood swooshing through the air with a high-pitched whistle before it landed with a sick-sounding _crunch_ on Rick’s forearm.

Carl wasn’t sure which of the four of them screamed, but he couldn’t keep himself from launching himself forward, scrambling to get at his dad. Negan swung Lucille again, turning and pointing it right at Carl’s face. Seeing his dad’s blood and little bits of skin in the barbed wire made Carl’s stomach lurch unpleasantly and he froze, eye wide and truly afraid for the first time.  

Negan’s hand shook just enough that a drop of his dad’s blood rolled off the end of the bat and onto Carl’s forehead. It was hot and made his skin crawl as his dad’s blood slowly slid down his face.

“Fuckin’ kill _me_ , he says. Ain’t that some _shit._ ” Negan hadn’t even turned to look at Carl. It was though he instinctively knew where Carl was in relation to his own body, and Lucille was just an extension of his arm. “Well. Ain't that some gratitude. Not to bore you too much here lady and gentlemen, but I keep giving you chances and you keep fucking them up. Fucking though, that’s what we’re here for.” Negan cocked his head and stared down at where Carl’s dad lay on the ground, cradling his bleeding arm. Daryl was crouched awkwardly next to him, his hand on Rick’s shoulder and the other bracing himself against the wooden floor.

Negan lowered the bat and turned an assessing gaze on Carl and behind him, to Maggie. Negan put two fingers to his lips and whistled sharply. At once there was the sound of two sets of feet thundering down the stairs. Carl used the distraction to scramble backwards, closer to Maggie. He felt her hand brush against his still taped wrists, her fingers tangling with his.

Negan had hurt his dad with barely a thought. On a whim, like he’d done everything else. Carl knew that he could hate him all he wanted, but at the end of the day, they were still dancing at the end of whatever string Negan wanted to pull.

 _That_ realization was terrifying. Carl tightened his fingers with Maggie’s, glad for the comfort.

“Gary! Go get something comfortable to sit on. You’re gonna be here awhile.” Negan turned, swinging Lucille through the room with muted _woooosh_ of air. He leaned the bat against his legs and folded his arms across his chest as the two men reversed and went back up the stairs. They could hear the stomp of their feet and some low talking, but couldn’t discern what was said. Negan waited patiently, a little grin on his face.

Carl stared helplessly at where his dad and Daryl were chained up to the floor. His dad stared back at him, the expression in his gaze wild. Daryl continued staring at the floor, blankly.

There was a bang from the door at the top of the stairs, and a man came back downstairs with the chair bumping along behind him. It seemed to take forever for the man, Gary, to set up the chair how he wished it to be. Negan nodded that he should sit, and the man did, fingers tapping nervously against the butt of his gun.  In the light from the open door at the top of the stairs, Carl could see that he was about the size of Daryl, muscled through his shoulders and arms. He had on a white t-shirt with _something_ attached to a leather cord around his neck. He vaguely recognized him from that time in the woods. Carl squinted, staring at the ... thing on the man’s chest. If fell onto his sternum, and swung there like a gruesome charm.

Carl felt his gut roll when he realized it was someone’s finger.

“So here we go. Had to improvise a little with sweet-britches here, but I think I’ve figured out how this is gonna play out.”

“See, Gary over there, he did me a solid not too far back, and I promised him a reward. But he’s a good soldier, loyal as fuck, _and_ it’s his birthday!”

Negan’s grin widened. It reminded Carl of a shark.

“So here’s what’s gonna happen. Carl- you got one choice, little man. You come with me now and all this shit ain’t your problem no more. ‘Course, that means that’ll leave your girl all by her lonesome.” Negan picked Lucille back up and tapped the end of the handle against his chin thoughtfully. “It _is_ Gary’s birthday.” Negan snapped his fingers in Gary’s direction. “What you think of her? See, normally I make sure that all my girls are here willingly. But this here is what we call an exception to the rules.” Negan looked over at Rick. “If you hadn’t fuckin _lied_ she’d be out of here as pretty as you please. But _you_ drew her into this and I’m afraid she’s gonna have to reap the rewards.”

“She’s... real nice lookin’.” Gary smirked at Maggie. He licked his lips.

Carl felt his skin crawl. “No. You’re not gonna _touch_ her!” Maggie’s grip on his actually tightened as Carl started to lean forward, towards Gary as she tried to keep him in place. He wanted to hurt him for even-

“Aww. Ain’t that cute.” Negan sighed, then shrugged, shaking his head sadly. “Looks like the future serial killer is a mite protective over his girl there. But stupid. Well, alright. I tired.” He drew out the word, making it almost sing-songy. _‘Trii-iied_.’ “Well, Gary my man? Looks like you’re gonna have to be satisfied with just watching.”

Carl spoke before thinking about it, the words falling from his lips without his brain actually filtering it.  “Watch what?”

Negan’s grin was so wide, so absolutely and utterly delighted that it made Carl’s stomach clench with nerves. He had been afraid, but suddenly he was _scared_ and knew that there was no way that this was gonna be good.

“Ennie.”

Maggie gasped, and Carl’s eyes widened as he saw Negan point the bat at them.

“Meanie.” Negan swung the bat back towards Rick and Daryl.

“ _NO!_ ” Carl’s watched as his dad began to struggle against the chains. It was pointless. The handcuff needed a key, and his arm was obviously broken. Daryl had tried to wrap his flannel around the arm, but it had bled through already in little spots where the barbed wire had cut the flesh of his arm.

Negan did the same thing he’d done in the woods, swinging Lucille towards Carl and Maggie, then back to Rick and Daryl, not speaking each time so that they wouldn’t know when the next part would come from. ‘Miney’ landed on Carl and Maggie, and so did ‘Moe’. ‘Catch-a’ landed on Daryl and Rick, and ‘Tiger’ on Maggie and Carl. ‘By’, ‘his’, and ‘toe’ volleyed back and forth.

All of them had frozen at this point, too scared at what they knew was about to happen to do anything.  His dad was still straining fruitlessly against the chain, as though testing it for weaknesses, desperately trying to keep Negan's attention on him and not Carl or Maggie. Daryl practically vibrated in place with the need to act, but was just as obviously too afraid to give Negan another excuse to hurt one of them.  Maggie continued crying behind him with deep, hiccoughing breaths, and Carl didn’t know how to help, or what to do to make this better. He would though. He would do _anything_ to keep her safe.

Carl just didn’t know what that was.

Carl’s brain must have skipped time or something, because hearing the cheerful ‘Eenie’ again made him snap to attention, tension running through all of his muscles, like he’d been electrocuted. Lucille brushed against Carl’s head almost gently, causing his hair to flutter slightly in the breeze it created.

Carl heard his dad make a sound, and hearing it made Carl feel even more sickly terrified.  It sounded like something dying.

“Meenie” landed on Daryl’s shoulder.

“Please don’t do this.”  Maggie’s voice shook with her terror, and Negan looked almost sorry for a moment as he swung Lucille back to them.

“Sorry, honey. I truly am. You don’t deserve this.... Miney.”

 

_“Moe.”_


	4. Daryl

 

**~4~**

**Daryl**

 

Daryl knew that things were fucked, almost before he fully woke up.

His stomach swam with enough remembered nausea that Daryl could identify he was stoned. He looked around warily, trying to blink his surroundings into bleary focus.  He remembered this room, the place they’d taken him after the first time he broke out of the cell he’d first woken up in all those weeks ago. He hadn’t cared that he’d been naked, or that the door being unlocked was obviously a trap. He’d just wanted to leave that stinking room, and had stupidly fallen into even more of Negan’s web.

This room had been his punishment.

Listlessly, he raised his wrist and listened to the clink of the cuff. He felt someone breathing next to him and looked to see Rick passed out to his left.  Daryl swallowed, hard.  He didn’t want to be here, but he _really_ didn’t want Rick to be stuck here with him.

When he’d gotten back to Alexandria, Rick had been incredibly... protective. In the way that they’d always seemed to have between them, Rick had just known to give Daryl his space. He had made sure that their mismatched family didn’t bombard him, and made sure to have Carol check him over for anything that Negan’s people left him with (burns, scratches, contusions were expected, but Rick’s grim face when he saw the bullet wound that had been allowed to fester had made Daryl’s throat close up tightly- not used to seeing that much hurt from someone else on his behalf). Rick hadn’t seen everything though. Some things... no. Rick didn’t need to know about that.

Seeing his wounds had _hurt_ Rick in a way that Daryl didn’t really know how to examine.  So he’d ignored it.  Gone on with life as usual. Slowly remembered that there were people who wanted him around, who would cry for him... die for him.

But now he was back in this stinking fucking hole. He felt sick, and scared and much too exhausted to deal with any of it.  Daryl closed his eyes, ignoring their sting.

Part of him couldn’t help wondering if he had ever left.

 

* * *

 

Waking up the second time and realizing that it wasn’t just _Rick_ but _Maggie_ and _Carl_ that were down here with him made Daryl feel so sick with guilt that it made the nausea from the drugs seem like nothing. Watching Negan taunt them, hearing what he said about Maggie and Carl made Daryl freeze like the coward he knew he was.

His brain shrieked at him to do something to fight or help or... _Christ_. It was his fault they were all here and Daryl couldn’t even move around to do anything!  He knew his heart was beating too fast, and he was sweating, and it was hard not to just curl up and let it all just happen; let Negan do whatever the fuck it was that he was going to do.

And maybe Daryl would have if Negan hadn’t broken Rick’s arm.

The scent of the blood, the feel of Rick’s body against his as Daryl tried to put himself between Rick and the next blow that never came jarred something in his stupid brain. He went from panic (and now Daryl could recognize a panic attack and not just tremble in reaction) to absolute, pure _fury._ A switch had been flipped.  

In the low light, he could see that the barbed wire had scratched Rick’s arm up something awful. Daryl did his best to wrap the wound, glad that he’d showered before all this so at least his clothes were somewhat clean. Maybe that’d stop the infection.  

When Rick went rigid and yelled something beside him, Daryl made an effort to tune back in- just now aware that there’d been conversation going on around him, swirling like smoke trapped in a closed room. Daryl shook his head, _hard_ , trying to lose the last of the cobwebs.

One moment he was swimmy, not quite all the way there, losing time, and the next he was suddenly and completely lucid, with all the subtlety of a punch to the jaw.   That fucking bat tapped his shoulder, as though Lucille was politely trying to get his attention.

“Please don’t do this.” Maggie’s voice shook.

“Sorry, honey. I truly am. You don’t deserve this.... _Miney_.”

“ _Moe_.”

Lucille was bloody and lethal and Daryl knew that it was time to pay the piper. If he knew anything- it was that it was his responsibility that Glenn was dead. _Him._ That sweet kid’s death was on his shoulders. His punishment for that wasn’t what had happened to him here, before. It wasn’t even knowing that Maggie and Carl and Rick were here because of him.  It was knowing that whatever sick shit Negan thought up; whatever it was that was gonna happen next was _on him._  

Rick shrank back slightly, hardly enough to be noticeable from where he knelt there on the wooden floor. If Daryl hadn’t been behind him, he probably wouldn’t have noticed.

“You comfortable back there Gary? ‘Cuz the fuckin’ show is about to fuckin’ _start!_ ”

Daryl jolted to realize that one of Negan’s goons was sitting near the shelves, holding a beer, looking for all the world like he was patiently waiting for a movie or play to begin.

“Pl- _please_. Please let my boy go.” Rick moved forward as much as he could with his broken arm chained to the eyelet on the floor. He held up his other hand beseechingly towards Negan, not seeming to notice that by moving the cuff, he jerked Daryl off balance from his awkward crouch and onto the floor, so that Daryl had to brace himself with one knee and catch his balance by flinging his other hand against the wall.

“Naw. See, I need him here, Rick. I told you, I wanted him; well, I wanted him to see you brought so fucking low that not even your own kin would claim you.” Negan swung Lucille so that she was perpendicular to his body, stretching his arms out behind him with Lucille held carefully by the handle with one hand and by the head of the bat, near where the barbed wire started with the other. He rocked back on his heels, obviously delighted.

“Eenie Meany never leads me wrong. Right, Daryl?”

Daryl jumped, and had to physically shake off the memory of _being stretched out on the wood, chained to this very same floor, eventually screaming as Simon had cut into him on Negan’s orders.  Every word had a new cut, and Negan had sing-songed ‘Eenie, Meanie’ on for forever; Daryl remembering what Negan had done in the woods, remembering the sound of Abraham’s skull cracking open like a rotten fruit, Glenn’s strangled, desperate last words to Maggie..._

_Daryl had tried so very hard not to scream, or twitch. The cuts had been deep that all he could think of was how easy it would have been for that fucker to nick his femoral and that’d be all she wrote._

_After awhile, especially after they’d left Daryl with a needle and some fishing wire to sew up his own stitches, Daryl wished that he wasn’t so much of a fucking coward and he could just---_

“Now kid, I need you to listen pretty damn carefully. You’re gonna want to make sure you understand every tiny nuance of this little party, so you can be sure that you get everyone out of this unscathed. Well, no more ‘scathed’ than they already are, anyway.”  Negan turned so that he could see all four of them, backing up so that he was almost on the first stair.

Daryl reached forward, tightening his hand on Rick’s shoulder. He moved his hand down between Rick’s shoulder blades, trying to show him that he wasn’t alone, that Daryl was with him in this like every other crazy thing they’d been through together since Atlanta.

“So what happens is up to you. You got yourself a bit of a choice. Choice one is simple. You stay down here and watch while your dad’s buddy Daryl here fucks your dad like the little bitch he is.”

Daryl froze.

“ _You_ watch him cry, and see how absolutely fucking _weak_ he is.” Negan’s voice lost all amusement. He spoke with the serious tone of a man who was used to people obeying him. Daryl was overly aware of the too-rapid beat of Rick’s heart from under the palm of his hand.

“You should know that if you leave, I take your _girlfriend_ , beat the ever loving fuck out of your dear daddy and his asshole friend, and you get to live with your choice.”

Negan held Carl’s gaze for a moment, his eyes narrowed until he was sure that his point was clear.  “If good ol’ Daryl, or Daddy-o refuse, then I take you and the hot piece of ass over there. You’ll stay here as a special guest, and sweet-cheeks over there will become one of my wives.”

Daryl saw Carl swallow hard enough that his Adam’s apple bobbed. He looked very young as he stood there with one wide eye, his face pale and waxy with shock.

Negan turned to look at Daryl, then down at Rick. He smirked and thrust his pelvis forward in a filthy grind, then snapped his fingers as though just remembering something else.

“Unless you want to come with me now?” Negan jerked his head towards the stairs, his smirk hardening. Daryl watched as Carl actually started to move forward, dropping Maggie’s hand as though burned.  “ ‘Course... that would leave your girl here all lonely. Gary wouldn’t mind at all, and lookee there, your dad and his _little friend_ are still a bit tied up at the moment. Wouldn’t be able to stop what’s coming, now would they.”

“But... but I thought you said that it was me that you wanted? I’ll go willingly! I’ll stay as long as you wan---”

Negan scoffed. “Nah. Now that I think on it, this’ll be more fun anyway. You had your chance, kid. You were too busy acting like some little chihuahua, all angry and all. It was pretty damn adorable, but yeah. This’ll work out better.” He cocked his head. “So, you commin’?”

Carl blinked, staring helplessly at Rick.

“Dad?”  

“ _Daa-aaad_ ,” Negan mocked, turning to look at Gary.  He made the _thwok_ noise again by clicking his tongue. “Kid lost his window of opportunity. Ma’am, I’m gonna need you to--”

“ _NO!_ ” Daryl only realized that both he and Rick spoke at the same time when they saw Negan start towards Maggie. He didn’t know what to do, but he knew he couldn’t just let Negan have her, not _ever._ He’d already let her down by getting her husband killed. He could not let her down again.

Rick turned to him and Daryl flinched at the look on his face. Without Negan seeing his expression, Daryl could see the absolute fucking _fury_ on his friend’s face, and knew what Rick was gonna say before the words came out of his mouth.

“After we do this, you let the three of them go. No tricks, no bullshit, nothing.”

“ _Excuse_ me?! _You’re_ making demands now?”

Rick protectively held his still-bleeding arm up to the center of his chest. Daryl watched as Rick closed his eyes, forcing the expression on his face into one of the fear that Negan so obviously expected. He turned, standing there with his head bowed as through broken, waiting for Negan’s benevolence.

The realization of the fact that Rick had been playing Negan almost sent Daryl to his ass in shock.  He blinked, stymied, not sure what his role was in this drama, other than that of a rapist.  The fact that he had thought about screwing around with Rick before was neither here nor there.  There was no fucking way that Rick Grimes would ever want him to do this, no matter _what_ he said. He’d do anything to keep Carl and Maggie safe.

“Huhn.” Negan cocked his head before shrugging one shoulder. “I’ll give you two of the three. Depends on how I feel. Gary! If that asshole hasn’t bent over in five minutes, shoot the girl in the head. If only one comes, then shoot the other in the dick. Keep your hands off the kid. Come get me when they’re done.” Negan turned and started walking up the stairs, his boots a slow and steady tread. “Oh shit. I almost forgot.”  Daryl watched as he threw a small tube of something down between him and Rick. “Lube. I’m not a _monster_.” Negan laughed and walked the rest of the way up the stairs, slamming the door behind him.

The silence was so loud that Daryl was sure that they all could hear the thud of his heart in his chest. “Rick?” Daryl knew that his voice was trembling. His whisper made him sound younger than Carl.

Rick stared at him, obviously thinking. “Carl? Maggie? You guys okay?”

“I think I peed myself, but otherwise I’m fine. Carl’s fine too. Don’t you worry, Rick. I’ll make sure...”

“Hey! None of that shit. You guys are wasting the time Negan gave you. You’ve got four minutes left and I _will_ shoot. “

Four minutes.

Rick huffed out a breath and turned back to face Daryl. Daryl’s eyes were burning for some reason, but he didn’t know why.  

“Here. We’ll have to move a little bit towards the wall.” Rick took a step closer, holding up Daryl’s wrist where the cuff had cut a little into the skin.  Rick’s fingers felt cool against the skin of his wrist, before dropping down to tangle with Daryl’s fingers, squeezing gently. Daryl made a strangled sound in his throat and jerked back on instinct. He could feel his chest tightening, the oxygen in his lungs getting tighter and tighter until he felt lightheaded. Rick followed him, stepping into his space and cupping the back of Daryl’s neck with the hand of his broken arm. The chain swung slightly, knocking into Daryl’s chain. Rick jerked a little, and Daryl allowed Rick to press their foreheads together.

“Daryl. Take a deep breath.”

Daryl tried, but it was difficult.

“Another. Come on. I’m sorry. I’m sorry to ask you to do this, man, but I need you with me right now.”

Rick needed him? _Rick_ was sorry?!

Daryl tried to pull away again, this time to ask Rick what the actual _fuck_ he was thinking, but Rick gently scraped his nails against the back of Daryl’s neck and held on. Rick’s breath was hot against his cheek, and smelled faintly of the sweet tea he’d had before all this mess has started.

“All right?”

Daryl stopped trying to pull away and just breathed for a moment, closing his eyes.

“Don’t punch me, okay?”

“Why would I-- _mmph_ ”  

The rest of his ‘why would I punch you?’ was lost in the soft press of Rick’s lips to his. It wasn’t particularly passionate, or needy. If anything, it was calming, causing Daryl to focus.  Hell, Daryl was too frozen to do much more than stand there like an idiot. When they drew apart, Daryl’s gaze jumped guiltily to Carl’s and Maggie’s gazes.  Carl still looked a bit shocky, but Maggie had this soft look on her face. It reminded him of a little girl looking at a cute and adorable puppy. All she needed to do was coo ‘awww’.

Rick inhaled shakily, staring at into his eyes. He was a little shorter than Daryl, but not so much that either one of them had to crane their necks uncomfortably.  Rick bit his lip and before Daryl could think too much about it he leaned forward and kissed Rick, sucking the lip Rick had bitten into his own mouth.

It was like a switch being flipped.

Not that Daryl could completely ignore their audience.  He could see out of the corner of his eye as Daryl leaned forward in his chair, and Carl and Maggie abruptly turned their backs on Daryl and Rick. It was a small mercy, but Daryl was thankful.  It was a little easier to ignore his nerves and how _wrong_ all of this was when Rick’s lips were on his.

“Two minutes...”

Rick pulled back with a muttered, ‘fuck!’ and went to his knees. Daryl gaped at him for a minute, slack-jawed, still reeling from their kiss. Rick reached for Daryl’s belt and undid it, and if Daryl could have slack-jawed any harder he would have.  Rick didn’t fuck around. He unzipped and pushed Daryl’s khakis and underwear down to his ankles, meeting Daryl’s gaze with an unreadable look before wrapping his good hand around Daryl’s dick.

This time Daryl knew the dizziness was from the sudden lack of blood to his brain.  He fumbled a little, sending the chain swinging with a clank when he closed his hands on Rick’s shoulders.  Rick continued to jack him, spitting on his hand to cut the friction, until Daryl was fully hard.  Belatedly, Daryl kicked off his boots and khakis, until he was naked.

Rick was staring at Daryl’s dick as though he’d never seen one. And who knew? Maybe he’d never seen another man’s dick like that before.  Daryl finally managed to grab Rick’s hand with his, stalling the almost frantic movement. Rick’s hand was dry, and it was a little uncomfortable, for all that it felt good. His dick throbbed almost like another heartbeat as he watched Rick turn around and kick off his boots. Rick loosened the gunbelt and his jeans in quick, jerky movements, kneeling there on the wooden floor with his head  bowed, still not looking at Carl or Maggie, obviously ashamed, but determined to go on. Daryl blinked a few times, trying to figure out the mechanics of fucking someone with so little slack to the chain. Rick’s arm probably would be too painful if he tried to use it to bear his weight, but Daryl would still needed enough leverage to move. He wasn’t sure that there was enough slack on the chains to let him do this right.  Daryl’s gaze was caught by the lube that Negan had tossed to them and he uncapped it, ignoring the ways his fingers shook.  He knelt down behind Rick, watching as his friend arranged himself in front of him as best he could.

The muted _fwwttt!_ of a silencer caused both of them to freeze, staring up at Gary  like scared rabbits, frozen in place. Their unwelcome audience had shot the mattress in between Maggie and Carl.

“Time’s _uuhh-uup_ ,” Gary sing-songed, sighting down the end of his gun. It was aimed at Maggie’s head and the shock of seeing that was enough to jar Daryl out of his nervousness.  He couldn’t think about the why or look too carefully at what he was doing.  He just had to do it.

“I thought you wanted a show?” Daryl’s voice was a tense rasp. He pushed Rick down with a rough hand to the shoulder blades, and Rick went sprawling, making small pain sound when he smacked his injured arm against the floor, putting him in front of Gary.  “You gotta give me a few minutes to get started.”  It took a lot, but Daryl ignored the gun to Maggie’s head in favor of squirting some of the lube on his dick. It had wilted a little but a few strokes got him fully hard again. It made his skin crawl to see Gary’s gaze on him, but the gun on Maggie slowly lowered down to Gary’s side.  Daryl heard the muffled _click_ of the safety being engaged, and was finally able to look down at Rick in front of him. He used a bit more lube, knowing that he wouldn’t have much time to do this.

Rick winced away from him when Daryl used the first finger, but forced himself into stillness as Daryl worked it inside the incredibly hot tightness of Rick’s body. The lube made a squelching sound when he added the second finger, and Daryl ignored Rick’s flinch. Disgust and shame brought bile to the back of Daryl’s throat. He forced himself to stop thinking. If he focused on anything else, he’d lose his hard-on and they’d all be fucked.

Daryl blinked hard at the sight of Rick’s ass tilted up for him, and realized that Rick had braced himself on his elbows.  He used a bit more lube and removed his fingers, darting one more glance at their audience.  Maggie was laying down, partially on and partially off the mattress. Carl was crouched awkwardly beside her, with his hands firmly over his ears so that he could block everything else out.

Daryl fervently wished him luck.

Grasping the head of his dick, he leaned forward, shuddering when it caught on the rim of Rick’s hole before sliding up between his cheeks.  Daryl stared, shocked at the visual of his flushed cock between Rick’s asscheeks, before he moved back and tried again.  He’d used so much lube that it was hard to gain purchase, and his cock bumped over the blood-hot rim of Rick’s ass a few times before he managed to get the right angle.

Daryl had the presence of mind to go slowly, but even so Rick tensed so much under him that it was almost impossible to move forward.  Rick made a small sound and Daryl’s whole heart dropped to his stomach.  Here he’d been rubbing against him, forgetting for a moment exactly where they were, and Rick was hurt.

Well of _course_ Rick was hurt.

Daryl sat back on his legs, and brushed the palms of his hands down Rick’s flanks, over his chest, and down to his thighs. He didn’t touch Rick’s cock, but tried to get him to relax. He pulled Rick’s slightly smaller body into his, hugging him.

“Come on, Rick. Gotta let me in,” he whispered, low in Rick’s ear. Rick shivered, and Daryl bent to Rick’s neck, kissing tentatively at the column of flesh.  Rick _definitely_ enjoyed that, if the way his body relaxed slowly was any indication.  Daryl’s cock slid in another quarter-inch and Daryl’s hands drifted down to Rick’s hips. He pushed a little until Rick was balancing up on his knees, and scrambled for the lube again. Daryl got some more onto his dick, then corkscrewed two fingers back into Rick’s ass, bending to run his teeth over Rick’s shoulder blade.

Rick’s gasp was barely there, but Daryl felt like he’d gotten an award of some sort. He used his other hand to run his hand back over Rick’s hip, then up over his stomach to his chest and back down. Daryl was afraid to touch Rick’s cock, knowing that if the other man wasn’t hard then he’d lose whatever mental ground he’d gained. Hard or not, Daryl couldn’t fool himself into thinking that Rick really would have ever chosen to be with him like this.  Now, in this moment he could pretend that Rick was enjoying himself, that he wanted to be here. Any evidence to the contrary, and Daryl would just be the man raping him.

Daryl swallowed and withdrew his fingers a little. Rick followed the movement, screwing his hips down as Daryl started scissoring his fingers. Rick was a little too heavy in this position, but they didn’t have very many options. Rick reached down with his good hand and wrapped his fingers around Daryl’s shaft again, and just about everything flew out of his brain. Rick moved back slightly, positioning Daryl where he wanted him, and this time when Daryl thrust inside there was only the slightest bit of resistance as the head of his cock breached the tight muscle.  Daryl didn’t do much more than kneel there with his back braced against the wall as Rick slowly slid down on his cock, until he was fully seated.

Rick was trembling, and it drove Daryl insane that he couldn’t see Rick’s face from this position.  Rick reached back and grabbed at Daryl’s hand, and placed it on his cock.

Daryl’s eyes drifted shut. He bowed his forehead forward so that it rested on Rick’s shoulder and tried to breathe. He both desperately wanted to move, and never wanted this to end, and _hated_ himself for even having the thought.

Their fingers tangled together, still slick with lube, as they curled around Rick’s cock. It wasn’t as long as Daryl’s, but it was thick enough that it made Daryl wish he could see what his fingers stretched around. Rick was half-hard, and Daryl knew that his own cock was about a minute from coming. Negan had told Gary to shoot one of them if they didn’t both come, so Daryl gritted his teeth and started stroking Rick’s cock.  It didn’t take long for it to fill, and when Daryl reached around Rick with both hands in a tighter hug. He  let the hand on Rick’s cock drift  down to Rick’s balls to gently tug, then used his other hand to start jacking Rick off. Rick moaned low in his throat.

Daryl could see that Gary was almost out of his chair, completely focused on the two of them.  Rick’s shoulders blocked Daryl’s view of Maggie and Carl, but he didn’t imagine that either one of them were looking. He sure as fuck hoped not. He’d spare Rick that if he could, and in fact that had been his original plan- to be on top to block Gary’s view. The fact that the chains meant he was able to hide and Rick was on display just made everything that much worse.

Daryl mouthed at Rick’s shoulder blade again, desperately trying to focus on something other than the little fluttery motions of Rick’s ass as he rocked on Daryl’s cock. He could taste sweat through the cotton of Rick’s shirt, and barely stopped himself from biting the ridge of bone and cartilage he found there.  Rick rocked his hips up, fucking into the clench of Daryl’s fist, and slid back down onto Daryl’s cock. Daryl heard the breathless punched out sound he made and tried to be quiet, not wanting to perform anymore than he was being forced to.  Rick’s good arm jerked on the chain as he did it again, and again.  Daryl heard a low thud and ignored it as his own body tightened. The cool air of the room on his cock, then the impossibly hot tightness of Rick was too much. The wrists that were handcuffed together continued to give _tightslick_ fingers for Rick to fuck into, and Rick turned his head as best he could, straining to meet Daryl’s lips with his own.

“Daryl...” It was a breath of sound, but to Daryl seemed as loud as a shout.

Daryl blinked at him, shocked, before slamming their mouths together. It was more a filthy twist of tongues and too-hot breath then a kiss, but it did the trick.

Daryl had to force himself not to scream out his pleasure as he came.  Wave after wave left him damn near insensible. All Daryl was fully aware of was the way he couldn’t stop clinging to Rick’s sweaty body with his own, feeling Rick’s trembling on top of him finally stop. Rick’s heartbeat still thudded crazily in his chest.

Daryl rested his cheek against the middle of Rick’s back with a little nuzzle, coming down and slowly trying to remember what life was like before he had fucked Rick Grimes.

_Fwwttt! Fwwttt!_

He’d heard that sound a hundred times. Not quite a silencer like movies would have you believe, but much more muted than a gunshot. It wasn’t the most graceful of moves, but Daryl shoved Rick off of him and knelt, wet dick slapping against his thigh as he tried to cover Rick’s body with his.

He didn’t...

What was...

Daryl blinked, still uncomprehending.

“Uh. Here, you can use this.”  Maggie’s whisper caused Daryl to gape at her, and stare at the blanket she threw over Rick like he’d never seen one before.   He jerked his gaze back to Gary, who slumped rather pathetically in his chair, hand still buried in his pants. There was a neat bullet hole in his chest, and another one in the center of his head.  Carl was rifling through his pockets, very pointedly not looking in his half-naked dad’s direction.

Rick made a strangled sound, then started wiping his hands and dick off on the already-stained blanket.  Daryl’s heart sank as Rick refused to look at him. It took Maggie pointedly sighing before Daryl was able to push himself into doing the same, dressing quickly.

“Shit. No key. Guess it was a bit too much to hope for that he’d have it.” Carl frowned and look past the dead man to the shelves.  He took the water, and started rifling through the containers. He tossed odds and ends, and what looked like someone’s old canning equipment to the side.The gas can was empty, but there was a smallish hammer and what looked like a wrench. hanging up on a pegboard to the right of the shelf.  “Uh. Is it...”

“Yeah. It’s safe.” Rick’s voice was low and Daryl stole a look at him from under his bangs. Rick looked focused again, like he had a purpose. He was dressed, but barefoot. He looked a little sweaty and utterly fucked out, and Daryl felt guilt choke him at the realization that he really, _really_ liked that look on him.

“Well, we need to get this show on the road. We can deal with the shitton of awkwardness later.” Maggie’s voice was hard, but her cheeks were apple-red.  

Daryl nodded, wrapping some of the chain around his hand for leverage as he pulled, using his weight. He couldn’t do it perfectly, because his hand was still cuffed to Rick’s. His bare feet slid a little on the wooden surface of the floor, and Daryl cursed. The wood of the floor wasn’t brand new, but it wasn’t old and rotted either. “If the eyelet is bolted into the joist then we’re fucked, but there is a chance that we can take out the eyelet with a little leverage.”

Daryl shoved his foot into his boots. The strings were so old now that he didn’t have to mess with tying them, although he rolled his eyes when the tongue of the boot got pushed down under his heel.  He used the traction of the tread to brace himself and pulled again, muscles bulging as he strained.

He felt it give just a little.

“It’s workin’!”

“Here, you take this and go check it out.” Maggie handed Carl the gun, and Carl gave her the little hammer.  It wasn’t much, but Maggie was able to use the sharp corner to try and split the wood where the eyelet was screwed.

“Where the fuck is Carl?” Rick’s hiss caused Daryl to freeze and look around frantically. Carl’s head popped up through the floor, and he was grinning so much that Daryl had a sec where he wasn’t entirely certain that he wasn’t dreaming. It was so surreal.

“Crawl space. Come on, we have a way out of here! Hurry the hell up!”

Maggie muttered something unkind under her breath, but Daryl didn’t much care, because with one more heave of his body’s weight, the eyelet popped up out of the floor with a muted _crack_ of  breaking wood.

Daryl fell to his ass with a jangle of chains, and Rick cried out beside him as he was jerked off-balance, falling to his knees again with a thud. It obviously hurt his arm, if the way Rick bit his lip was any indication.  The four of them looked at each other, afraid since Maggie had taken out Gary.  That had been too loud. They had no idea who was in the house above them, and if they didn’t move their asses real fuckin’ quick, they’d find out more than they ever wanted to know.

“Right. Carl, grab the light. Dim it, but don’t extinguish it completely. Maggie, you do that thing again with my chain and the floor, and Daryl see if you can help me not fuck up my arm any more. We gotta do this quick.” Rick gave the orders and Daryl was moving to obey before he’d even through all the way about it, gingerly enclosing Rick in his arms again. He saw Rick grind his teeth together, and tried to ignore it as he looped Rick’s chain around his hand. Carl dimmed the light and came up behind him, picking up the chain and slipping it into a loose circle, so none of them would trip.

It took several tries.

It wasn’t until Rick had relaxed in his arms that they were able to sync their movements to wiggle the metal eyelet enough that it was loose in the wood it had been bolted in. Daryl tried to remember everything, tried to tell himself not to read too much into anything in particular as they strained together.

This time when it gave, Daryl was able to catch Rick’s weight. It was only a moment, maybe a heartbeat at most, but Rick relaxed against him, almost as if he trusted him. But how could he?

“Alright. I need some help, Maggie-girl.”  Maggie nodded and looped the chain around her hand.  There wasn’t anything Rick and Daryl could do about the handcuffs, but being free from the floor and not dead was a huge fucking inprovement from twenty minutes ago.

“Okay there’s a ladder. Be careful.” Carl disappeared into the crawl space and Daryl squinted when the smaller area made the dim lantern seem brighter. They made it down the steps, moving pretty quickly. The crawl space was kid-sized, and they all had to literally crawl to get out.

Daryl couldn’t help but hold his breath as they escaped the house. Every moment that they got further away from the trap door, Daryl expected Negan or some of his goons to drop down through the space behind them.  

It was no longer bright outside. The sun had set, and there was just the barest hint of daylight lingering in the cool fall air.  Daryl looked around as best he could, squinting.  He wanted a car, or something, but wasn’t sure that they’d be able to steal it without alerting anyone that they were free.

Quickly, they made for the woods. Rick cursed and Daryl realized that they he was still barefoot as rocks and small sticks jabbed uncomfortably at Rick’s tender flesh.  They ran as quickly as they could, as quietly as they could.

“We’re leavin a trail a mile wide.”

“Can’t be helped. Come on, I want some more distance between us and them before full dark.”

 

* * *

 

 

It took an hour or so, but they eventually saw the territory of Hilltop.  They stumbled up to the walls, exhausted and spent. They called out the password to the guard, and were let inside.  Someone shouted, and Daryl realized that it was Jesus, running from one of the trailers to them. He was holding a fussy Stephen.

Maggie sobbed a little as she grabbed her son, holding him to her. She stumbled a little, wincing as Stephen latched onto her breast, and Daryl hastily looked away.  

Jesus stared at them, shocked.  “We saw the ambush. Thought you were gone. _Damn_ it’s good to see you.” He shook Rick’s hand, then Daryl’s.

“You need to call the ASZ, let them know to expect an ambush. Same with your people- Negan’s not gonna be happy that we left.”

Carl snorted. “That’s an understatement.”

Jesus nodded. “Go on to Earl. He can get you out of all that hardware.”

Dimly, Daryl realized that he must be in shock. After what had happ- after what _he_ had done, and their tense escape and rather anticlimactic ending, he just felt _off_ somehow. Like something had been irrevocably broken. He couldn’t have said if he and Rick talked on their way to the blacksmith’s, but the man had obviously been warned because they were out of the cuffs in less than fifteen minutes.

Maggie and Stephen went up to the house, and Rick slung his arm around Carl’s shoulders as Carl none-too-gently herded his dad to the doc. Daryl watched all of them go and had to blink a few times, hard, half afraid he’d cry right there.

“Rough day?” Jesus half-smirked jokingly, but Daryl ignored him. Jesus winced, holding up a placating hand, palm out. “Sorry. Sorry, man, that was shitty. Here. You look like you’re about to fall over. We don’t have running water, but we do have plenty of water for a bath if you want. Sleep, relax a little before you go back to Alexandria. You’ll feel better for it.”  Jesus didn’t realize he was talking to Daryl like they’d all done when he’d first gotten back, like he was some kind of skittish victim.

That was the problem. _Daryl_ wasn’t the victim here. Daryl swallowed and nodded, following where Jesus indicated numbly.  He sat on a chair  and watched dully while people came in and out, filling up the bathtub with hot water from wherever it was heated, since they didn’t have electricity for a water heater.  He didn’t even wait for them to leave before he was stripping off his clothes and sliding into the too-hot water with a long sigh.

He could have been in the bathroom for hours. He ducked under the water a few times and washed his hair, then just lay there staring up at the ceiling.

He was going to have to leave, of course.

There was no way that he could do that to Rick- make the man see him every day. Carl was tough, and they’d get over the awkwardness  of whatever he had seen or heard eventually. But... there was nothing he could do to make this better. Maybe in a few years or something he could try to see if Rick wanted to see him...

Daryl scrubbed his hands over his face and finished washing his body. He reached out for the towel and roughly dried off. He hadn’t even noticed that someone had left a set of sweatpants on the sink.

So much for his battle-honed reflexes.

Daryl drained the tub, and brushed his teeth, making sure to avoid his gaze in the mirror, suddenly so fucking exhausted that he didn’t quite know how he wasn’t already asleep standing up.

He pushed open the bathroom door and made his way to the bed he’d seen earlier, falling onto it with a muffled grunt, his face smooshed up uncomfortably against the pillow. He sighed, then got under the blankets right. There was a window in the room, and the moonlight was bright enough that the room was bathed in shadows. Daryl looked up at the ceiling, mentally trying out the best way to fuck off. A clean cut would probably be best; no fussing, no emotional goodb--

The doorknob clicked open. In one blink and another, Daryl was wide awake. He had no weapons, but the alarm clock had a wicked-looking plastic edge that he could get to in time; the cord would make a decent rope to strangle the intruder if he was allowed to get close enough.

“It’s jus’ me.”

Daryl’s eyes bugged out in the darkness.  Of all the people he’d expected in his bedroom late at night, Rick was just about the last.

Rick shut the door with a muffled click and walked in front of the window to the bed.

“Think this’ll be easier without the light, if that’s okay.”

If that’s _okay_?!

Daryl nodded sharply and sat up in the bed, with his back against the headboard. It was the exact same position as he’d been in when they’d-

Daryl flinched.

“That. Whatever it is that you’re thinking when you do _that_ is the first thing we need to talk about. Jesus offered me some bourbon to get through this conversation, but I wanted you to know that I am sober and still willing to come to you at the asscrack of night to talk about my.... Feelings.”

Rick said the word ‘feelings’ like it was something disgusting, and Daryl supposed that for him, maybe it was.

“Rick. I. I don’t even know how to begin to--”

The mattress sank as Rick sat down on it. Daryl heard the strike of a lighter and saw that Rick had with him a small candle. He put it on the bedside table, and turned to Daryl.

“You can’t be apologizin’ to me, Daryl.” Rick held up his arm. “First thing’s first. It’s pink, yeah. I had a choice between pink and red, but I’m pretty sure I pissed off the doctor. I guess his brother is with Negan’s crew and gave him a head’s up on what Negan had ordered; stupid fuck wanted to have you kicked out of Hilltop.” Rick shrugged. “So I punched him. Hence the pink cast.”  Rick shrugged with one shoulder and ducked his head.

Daryl had to reach out to touch Rick’s cast and make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

“Rick.. I.” His throat tightened so much that Daryl’s sentence chopped off before it was completed. He forced himself to finish. “I’m just so goddamn _sorry._ ”

Daryl didn’t expect for Rick to snort and roll his eyes.  “Man, Maggie called that one. I owe her my last two cans of peaches.” He shook his head. “That whole thing was fucked. You got us out of that.”  
Daryl started to protest, but Rick spoke right over him.

“You did! Maggie said that that flunky of Negan was completely distracted by what you said, and what we did. And I do mean that, man. _We._ What _we_ did. I know that... that wasn’t anything you would have picked for a first time with someone.”

Daryl stared at him. “Well, without the audience, maybe.”

It was Rick’s turn to snort a laugh and stare at Daryl disbelievingly, like he couldn’t quite believe his ears.

“Hell, I was so... distracted that I completely missed that Maggie and Carl found a fucking _way out._ ” Rick sounded completely disgusted with himself.

Daryl stared at him. Rick wasn’t looking at Daryl’s face, but at his chest. Specifically, at a drop of water that had rolled down from his still-wet hair over his skin.

“Oh.”

Rick’s too-blue gaze darted up to his own. “I’m not blaming you. I could have done without my kid being in the same room, but I know who _is_ at fault for that, and it’s sure as shit’s not you.”

“But-” It seemed ridiculous that Rick was gonna let him off that easy. Not after what he’d done; what he’d made Rick do.

Rick cocked his head to the side and pushed on Daryl’s shoulders so that he was laying down on the bed. “You want me here? With you, I mean. Now?”

Daryl was so shocked by Rick’s bluntness that he blurted, ‘yes’ before he could really think of the ramifications. There was no situation, amount of danger, no crazy-as-fuck-megalomaniacal-psychopathic-bat-toting-fuckhead, no _way_ that he didn’t want to be right here where he was with Rick.

“Crazy-as-fuck-megalomaniacal-psychopathic-bat-toting-fuckhead?” Rick blew out the candle. “Yeah, you said that out loud.” Rick smiled a little and punched the pillow a few times. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard so many words come outta your mouth. Had to lose the light so you wouldn’t see my maidenly blush.”  Rick lay back on the other pillow and stretched out the arm with the cast, giving Daryl space to lay down with him.

Still feeling like someone could pull the rug out from him at any minute, Daryl gingerly rested his head on Rick’s shoulder, slowly relaxing into the heat of Rick’s skin.  He could smell Rick’s sharp, clean scent, and sighed when Rick trailed his fingers over his shoulder and down his arm.

“This okay?”

Daryl nodded, realized belatedly that Rick probably couldn’t see him nod with the candle out and made a small sound of assent.  He thought for a second. “This doesn’t fix everything, you know. Not that I want to fix everything tonight.” Daryl broke off with a yawn. Sleep was pulling at him and he was finding it harder and harder to resist. “Ten minutes ago I was plannin’ on how I’d say goodbye to you and the kids and now...” Daryl yawned again, smiling a little at the possessive way Rick tightened his hold for just a moment before going back to stroking Daryl’s skin.

“And now, you’re sleepin' with me. You’ll... stay right?” Rick sounded suddenly nervous, almost unsure of himself.

Daryl smiled in the darkness. He wasn’t entirely sure of what would happen tomorrow, or in the coming days. But right now, he was exactly where he wanted to be.

“Yeah, Rick. I’ll stay.”

Daryl lay there in Rick’s embrace, slowly matching his breaths to Rick’s own, listening to the thud of his heartbeat. Sleep, when it came was a gentle push into the calmness of exhaustion.

He woke up once when Maggie checked on them. The early dawn light cast her face in shadows, but there was no mistaking the raised eyebrows or the impish grin she shot them. Daryl just about had a heart attack when she stuck her tongue in her cheek and mimed someone sucking someone else off.  He ignored the fact that his cheeks were bright red as he settled back down into Rick’s arms, inwardly shaking his head at the idea that Maggie of all people would be so playful with him.  With _him_. After...everything.

Small steps. He knew that there would need to be small steps to forgiveness, to getting past what they’d all seen and done in that fucking cellar. But he also knew that he was right where he needed to be. Negan was going to go down. It was just a matter of time. He’d gotten his hands on Daryl twice, and Daryl knew there wouldn’t be a third time.

Maggie licked her lips and waggled her eyebrows, still grinning, obviously proud of herself.

Daryl raised his middle finger and ignored her snicker as she shut the door again.

His family was a bunch of assholes.

 

But, god did he love each and every one of them.  

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This was part of the first ever TWD Big Bang challenge! If you would like to participate next year, let me know and I'll direct your message to the organizers. :) This was a minibang, and a lot of fun to do. I hope that next year more people will 
> 
> I got a lot of help from people for this fic. As always, **FoxyK** for the ninjabeta. **jlm121** for holding my hand when this fic went through rewrite after rewrite and not letting me give up (even though this is a bit out of my normal comfort zone!) and my writing peeps **TWDObsessive** and **Marooncamaro** for their invaluable help and countless chat sessions of mutual flailing. 
> 
> Gifted to **lotr58** because she was kind enough to look over this during bit of 'should I really post this?!' See? Now you know what happens when you encourage me.  
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
>  The art (by **Emmatheslayer** ) Please go [ HERE ](http://emmatheslayer.livejournal.com/411121.html?view=694001#t694001) to give them some love!!!


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